That night, Teclos did not remember walking to his room.

He vaguely recalled pushing the door open with his shoulder. Boots still on. Belt still fastened. Shirt half-tucked and stiff with dried sweat from the heat and frost alike.

When he reached the bed, he just fell on it.

The mattress barely creaked before oblivion claimed him whole.

No tossing.

No turning.

No thoughts.

When he woke up again, every muscle in his body protested and screamed.

His shoulders burned from lifting the stones, his forearms felt useless from climbing, and his thighs throbbed from the run. He hadn’t felt this exhausted since Talmir’s first training.

He blinked slowly.

Birds chirped outside the window. A thin ribbon of sunlight slipped through the wooden shutters, stretching across the floorboards and crawling toward his bed like a wake-up call.

Dreading to stand up.

He rolled onto his side—immediately regretting it—and pushed himself upright with a quiet hiss.

"Shit..." he muttered to no one.

Today.

Was the final day of the Coming of Age ceremony.

After today, he would be recognized as an adult of the town. Free to choose his path openly. No longer just a promising youth training under watchful eyes.

And more importantly—

Today was the rune stone evaluation.

The moment where his greatness would be shown before the entire town.

That thought stirred excitement in his chest,

and a faint thread of nerves.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood up carefully. He almost fell from the pain in his legs but managed to catch himself.

He lifted his arms and tried to stretch once, experimentally, but the soreness that came from that simple stretch was brutal.

After walking to the basin slowly, he washed his face in cool water, the shock clearing some of the fog of sleep.

Getting dressed and stepping into the main room, the smell of a simple breakfast filled the air and assaulted his nose—toasted bread, lightly fried eggs, herbs.

His mother stood near the stove, humming a cheerful tune, moving with bright energy that seemed criminally out of place at this hour.

She even whistled between verses.

Teclos stared at her.

"You are in a happy mood, did something good happen?" he asked dryly.

She turned around with bright, sparkling eyes.

"Because my son becomes an adult today!"

She set down the pan and walked over, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. "You did so well yesterday. I heard everything."

Of course she had.

News traveled fast in town.

"You pushed yourself too hard, though," she added gently, though pride shone unmistakably behind the words. "But that’s nothing new for you."

He gave a small shrug.

Across the table, he saw his father sitting on a chair.

His head was tilted back.

Eyes were half-closed.

Arms hung loosely at his sides as if only gravity kept him seated.

He looked... dead.

Teclos blinked in confusion and then greeted him.

"Morning."

His father made a sound.

It might have been a grunt.

After a moment, one thumb lifted slowly into the air in acknowledgment.

Teclos stared at it.

"...Rough night, huh?"

His mother coughed lightly into her fist, suddenly very interested in rearranging plates.

His father’s eyes opened just enough to fix Teclos with a long, unreadable look.

"Sleep," he muttered. "Is important."

Then his head tipped back again.

Teclos slowly nodded.

"Ok?"

His mother returned to the table, placing food in front of him with entirely too much enthusiasm.

"You’ll sit before the rune stone today," she said, practically glowing. "Everyone will be there. The elders. The hunters. The neighbors. Even old Mira said she wouldn’t miss it. Your talent will finally be revealed, and everyone will finally bow their heads in shame once they know how talentless they are!"

Teclos nearly choked on his bread.

"Mom?"

"Sorry."

She leaned forward slightly. "Show them."

There was an odd pressure in her tone.

His father’s voice drifted lazily across the table.

"You got this, son."

Teclos narrowed his eyes.

"Are you even going to be awake by then?"

He gave a weak thumbs up.

Teclos exhaled sharply through his nose.

His mother smiled warmly at both of them.

For a moment, the soreness faded into the background.

Today wasn’t just about proving himself to the town.

It was about making them proud—knowing they were watching.

He finished eating, stood up, and adjusted his sleeves.

Then he stepped toward his room, pausing only briefly.

"Try not to fall asleep during the ceremony," he said to his father, giving him a final reminder.

A thumbs up lifted weakly for a third time.

His mother laughed softly.

And the door closed behind him.

Today’s proceedings would begin later than the physical trials of the previous days. No dawn assembly. No suffering. The elders had announced that the rune stone evaluation would take place closer to midday, when the sun stood high and the entire town could gather without excuse.

Which meant something rare in Teclos’ life.

Time.

Time to wash properly.

Time to dress properly.

Time to look like something other than a training-obsessed maniac or a hobo.

He stood in his room again, staring at the folded clothes laid out carefully on the table.

His mother had prepared them.

The tunic was deep charcoal, almost black, but woven with faint silver threading that caught the light subtly when it moved. The collar was structured but not stiff, lined with a darker trim stitched in careful, flowing patterns. The fabric was thick, high quality, tailored to his broadening shoulders and tapering slightly at the waist.

The trousers matched, fitted cleanly and tucked into polished leather boots that had clearly been oiled more than necessary.

Beside them lay a short mantle—dark gray with a muted silver clasp shaped like a simple ring.

Unmistakably formal attire.

Teclos ran a hand over the fabric and dressed himself.

When he stepped back and caught his reflection in the bronze mirror, he paused.

He looked...

Noble.

Someone that could be standing at a noble ball or party.

He adjusted the mantle once—pleased—then left the room.

Talmir stood near the doorway, adjusting his cuffs with the serious concentration of a man preparing for battle—though the faint shadows under his eyes betrayed him and revealed how tired he was from the previous night.

He wore a long, tailored coat of deep iron-gray, trimmed with subtle black embroidery along the seams. The shoulders were structured, the sleeves fitted, the coat falling just past his knees. Beneath it, a dark vest layered over a high-collared tunic, fastened with simple metal clasps. His boots were polished to a dull shine, and his hair had been combed back.

He looked every bit like a seasoned general.

He looked dangerous, composed, respectable, and mildly exhausted...

Teclos stopped beside him, and they glanced at each other.

The resemblance was unmistakable.

Same dark hair.

Same tailored suits.

Same quiet and stoic demeanor.

Like father, like son.

Talmir’s mouth twitched into a subtle smile, clearly proud.

And then, from the kitchen, came the soft sound of fabric shifting.

The true star arrived.

Saldia stepped into the room.

Her hair, normally tied back for work, fell in soft waves down her back, pinned delicately at the sides with small silver clasps shaped like leaves. The red dress she wore was deep crimson—not bright, but rich—fitted at the waist and flowing elegantly to her ankles. The sleeves were long and narrow, embroidered subtly near the cuffs with intricate vine patterns in darker thread. The neckline was modest, but the cut framed her shoulders gracefully.

She had even dusted a faint touch of color across her cheeks.

She looked—

Radiant.

Talmir blinked, and Teclos stared.

"...Who are you," he asked carefully, "and what have you done with my mother?"

Saldia placed a hand on her hip.

"Oh? Is it that shocking?"

Talmir cleared his throat and complimented her in a very serious demeanor.

"You look beautiful, honey."

She laughed—soft and warm—but there was the faintest hint of pink rising to her cheeks.

"It is a special day," she said, smoothing the fabric lightly. "I can try once in a while."

Teclos exchanged a slow glance with his father.

They both nodded in silent agreement.

Approved.

Talmir stepped closer to her, offering his arm without a word.

For once, he looked almost nervous.

She took it.

"Well," Teclos said. "Let’s not keep the entire town waiting."

Outside, doors were opening across the street. Families stepped out dressed in their finest and the square near the guild hall was already beginning to fill—murmurs, laughter, the rustle of layered fabrics and polished boots against stone.

The Coming of Age ceremony was not merely a test.

It was a declaration from every family that was participating.

And today, under the full light of the sun, Teclos would sit before the rune stone.

Everyone would be watching.

The door closed behind them with a solid wooden thud.

And the street went quiet.

There were still footsteps, murmurs from people, the distant creak of shutters—but it was quiet in that particular way when your attention shifts to something else.

Heads turned one by one.

Teclos noticed it immediately—the people subtly slowing down, the way the conversations died off mid-sentence. People straightened instinctively as his family stepped fully into the street, as if they were nobles.

They simply walked.

And somehow that made them the center of attention for everyone.

Saldia’s crimson dress caught the morning sun, deep red gleaming richly against the muted stone of the houses. Talmir’s iron-gray coat fell perfectly along his frame, structured and commanding. Teclos walked between them, mantle resting over his shoulders, posture naturally upright from years of drills.

A group of younger girls near the bakery froze entirely.

One of them whispered something, and another covered her mouth.

Two pairs of eyes locked onto Teclos—then quickly darted away when he glanced in their direction. They were blushing.

A third girl failed to look away in time.

Teclos lifted one eyebrow slightly.

She nearly tripped over.

He smirked faintly.

’Hah! Hell yeah... I’m finally hot! Hahah.’ he laughed to himself in his mind.

To the side of the road, a pair of older women exchanged glances—not at him, but at Talmir. Their eyes lingered a fraction longer than was polite. The fit of the coat. The quiet authority in his stride.

One murmured something about "still in his prime, I see."

Meanwhile, several men’s gazes shifted toward Saldia.

Stunned.

Because most of them had only ever seen her in work clothes, sleeves rolled up, hands dusted with crushed herbs, hair tied back carelessly.

Although she had that subtle beauty, this—

This was something else entirely.

A noble lady masquerading as a town herbalist.

By the time they reached the main stretch leading toward the town square, a subtle distance had formed behind them.

People were following them, as if a procession had begun without announcement.

Up ahead, two familiar figures waited near the well.

Ralph and Gillard.

And beside them—

Their families.

Ralph’s parents looked pleasantly surprised when they saw them approach.

Gillard’s family too; however, there was another person beside them.

Standing beside Gillard was a massive man who looked like he had been forced into formal clothing against the laws of nature.

Broad shoulders strained the seams of a dark brown suit jacket that had clearly been tailored as generously as possible. His arms were thick as carved timber beams, veins faintly visible even at rest. His brown, curly hair was cut shorter than Gillard’s, and a large bushy beard framed a square jaw that looked permanently set in stone.

It was Iron Hammer Drada, the best blacksmith in this region.

He did not look uncomfortable, but the suit sure did.

Losing to his muscles, with his presence radiating quiet intimidation.

Even dressed formally, he looked capable of lifting a cart.

Gillard noticed Teclos’ stare.

"That’s my father," he said plainly.

Teclos nodded once.

"Figures."

The large man’s eyes shifted toward Talmir.

A hunter and a blacksmith.

A slow nod followed from both sides.

A mutual acknowledgment.

Ralph broke the tension immediately.

"Daamn," he muttered, looking Teclos up and down. "Life ain’t fair."

Teclos tilted his head.

"What?"

Ralph gestured vaguely at all three of them and pointed behind toward the crowd that gathered.

"Look at you guys. You look like nobles walking through town."

Gillard grunted in agreement.

"Yeah. If someone told me you owned half the land here, I’d believe it."

Saldia laughed softly, clearly pleased.

"Oh, thank you, boys," she said warmly. "You two look just as handsome as Teclos."

Ralph brightened immediately.

Gillard stiffened slightly, unsure how to respond.

Teclos snorted.

"Yeah," he said dryly. "In your dreams."

Ralph shot him a look.

"Guess you got the looks but not the grace from your mother."

Gillard crossed his arms.

"He doesn’t have the brains either."

Even Talmir’s mouth twitched faintly.

Saldia simply shook her head, amused.

Gillard’s father finally spoke, his voice deep and resonant.

"You three done playing around?" he asked, serious in his tone.

Teclos looked up at him.

"We’re just warming up, sir."

A brief pause followed that statement.

Then, unexpectedly—

The big man barked out a short laugh.

"Cheeky," he said. "Confidence suits you, lad."

They all fell into step together, the combined families moving toward the town square.

By the time they reached the square, it was already filling with people. Stalls had been cleared aside. The central platform where the rune stone would be placed stood prepared. Elders gathered near the front, dressed in ceremonial robes, and the hunters lined the edges, arms crossed and observing the crowd.

Children darted around.

Older townsfolk took seats along the stone benches.

Teclos exhaled slowly as they took their place in the crowd, among the other families.

Ralph leaned slightly closer.

"Nervous?"

Teclos kept his eyes forward.

"No, I was born ready."

Gillard glanced at him.

"Sure..."

A ripple passed through the crowd when, at the far side of the square, the guild hall doors opened.

And Brahm stepped out.